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He’s glad to see that Aimée is here too. He can’t overstate how much a friendly face makes him feel less nervous. He’s only here at all because he didn’t want to disappoint his roommate. Montague seems very nice, but also like... a lot. Just a lot to deal with, and Jules really doesn’t want disappoint him so soon after they’ve met. So... he’s here.
❝Would it be rude to leave an impromptu Bonfire your roommate planned early?❞ His tone is joking, but he really does want to leave. He’s nervous around people in general, and this- with so many people around- is worse. So Aimée being here helps a little.
❝Kidding, o-of course. I want to stay for the ghost stories at least. I’m very interested to hear what other people might think they’ve seen here...❞
Wanting to hear those stories and not wanting to disappoint Montague are the only things keeping him here. And he does really want to hear those stories. He even brought his notebook with him, though he’s not mentioning that detail to Aimée.
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Jules rocks on the balls of his feet, looking at the other freshman. They’re in the lgbtqia+ alliance too, but he’s always been bad at introductions. Or talking to people in general ( not respectable- awkward and introverted and weird- never good enough ), but he wants to try.
This isn’t like the GSA back home. He’s not... expected to be perfect and always perform the the ‘perfect’ trans person. He doesn’t have to be some flawless person and representative of trans people in his small upstate New York town where he’s the only Trans guy. His mother is not here, and this is a progressive campus. And this is another person who is not Cis.
There is no reason to be this awkward, and yet...
❝So- uh, did you take a gap year or two?❞ They seem a few years older than him, but he’s not... sure. And it was the only thing he could think of to say.
He’s never been good at small talk, and that’s certainly not changing now. Nevertheless he’s going to be as friendly as he can manage. Social expectations be damned.
He can practically here his mother’s upset now.
Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.
Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden (via booksqouted)
“I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained. It is a blank state of mind and soul I cannot describe to you as I think it would not make any difference. Also it is a very private feeling I have - that of melting into a perpetual nervous breakdown. I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly.”
— A Self-Portrait in Letters, Anne Sexton (via vilicity)
Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.
F. Scott Fitzgerald (via iamfawad)
Julian "Jules" Underwood Drama and Theatre Production OC for breakingpointrp Written by Kendall. They/them follows from scientistredacted
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